How do I deal with my boyfriend rejecting me for coming out as a man?

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Answered by: Susan, An Expert in the Coming Out Category
Crushing my cigarette under my foot, I take a breath and press myself against the door. The numerous sounds of car horns and New York are replaced by the weaving melody of Norah Jones, the woman with a voice of honey. Perfumes of syrup dance through the air, while the scent of coffee beans hangs.

I take it all in with my powdered nose. My nose is, thankfully, gossamer. It distracts from my masculine jaw line--sculpted by angels. It’s the last thing I want Kyle, the latte boy to notice. All of the ornamentation on my face, my eye shadow, eye cream, eye liner, pseudo eye lashes, waxed eyebrows, lipstick, used to disguise. I hide under my secret identity. Under my mask, my name is Carlos. Kyle doesn’t know that. He knows my caked on face, wonder woman, Lola. I am Clark Kent. I was brought into this world; I came from my mother’s curves--awkward, uncomfortable from even before my first breath. As a man.



Everything sticks out in the wrong places. I’m unsatisfied with the appendages cemented onto my body, even if by god. However, I can take matters into my own hands. I can smear pigmentation onto my face, wear skinny jeans, and even heels. I can pretend I’m just flat chested. I can be wonder woman.

I pull myself up to the counter, greeting Kyle. He facetiously inquires, “What’ll it be?”



Kyle knows what kind of coffee I like. Kyle knows everything, except for my real name and what’s under my dress. I think he can see through my façade, I feel like he knows he has his own boyfriend.

Kyle finished up his shift; we were going to go on our date to the theme park. We both liked rides and cotton candy. Both of us agreed that eating the spun sugar was kind of like taking a bite out of the clouds. We zoom by the busy streets in a taxi, on our way to Coney Island, lights flashing, people passing by our eyes in the tinted windows. Kyle and I pass through the gates. It all feels like an endorphin induced haze. We ride the rides, play the games. We eat the cotton candy and the oversized lollipops, all this activity taking up no time at all. I fast forwarded through the day. I drag Kyle onto the Ferris wheel. We wait in line; we get loaded into a cart together.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a twinge of guilt spreads; I feel a sinking deep in the pit of my stomach. I think, Kyle doesn’t know I’m a man. Up we go, everything starts to spin. Should I tell him? We were at the top. What if he changes his mind? Down, I feel like puking. I owe him this information. I notice Kyle staring at me, enamored. He takes my hands, my heart drops. He looks into my eyes and says,

“Lola? I want to know everything about you. I feel like we have something special, really.” I had felt the same for him, ever since the first “Hello,” if that doesn’t sound too cheesy. He has to know. The words escape my lined lips before they can even enter my mind,

“Kyle, I have to tell you something. Ever since I was born, I felt like something was wrong with me. I’ve always felt that I was in the wrong body. Kyle, I was born as a man.”

The look of wonder disappears, he no longer looks at me like I’m a heavenly body. I see the emotions reel through his eyes. Confusion, doubt, realization, disgust. He must realize the sudden hurt in mine; he tries to soften the blow of rejection. Oh god.

“Lola,” he cringes at the name he knew me by, realizing it was fake, “it’s no big deal, I just don’t swing that way,”

I feel the sudden abandonment, everything comes crashing down. God, why couldn’t you have made me a woman? We stop at the top of the Ferris wheel; I look at the face of the man I had fallen for. I blink back the tears. Wordlessly, my legs raise me up.

Pavement.

The end.

Consciousness.

I slowly open my eyes, I see the most beautiful light. I feel at peace, I feel whole. I feel a spiritual welcoming, unlike any I’ve ever felt before. I look up, and I see a figure emerge from the light. My eyes start to adjust to the light, but the figure doesn’t come into focus. I hear a voice, tired, but full of wisdom and compassion.

“Come, my daughter. You have lived your life with what you were given. I will give you the chance to start again, the way you should have, for, I have made a mistake. I will not abandon you; I will right what I have wronged.”

He takes my hand and leads me forward, to a tunnel. The figure nods and urges me to crawl in and to go forward. It is time.

It is said that humans are a reflection of God’s image. Just like us mere mortals, sometimes God can error as well.

I am pulled out into the light and I take my first breath, as the human I was meant to be.     

The beginning.

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